


Never Be Weak Again

by richardthepassiveaggressiverooster



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, Sexy training, hot smoochy times, sexy fighting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-18
Updated: 2018-05-18
Packaged: 2019-05-08 13:54:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14695563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/richardthepassiveaggressiverooster/pseuds/richardthepassiveaggressiverooster
Summary: Response to a prompt: Flynn begins training Lucy in self-defense.





	Never Be Weak Again

Flynn and Lucy take a couple of days to recover from the shock.

Recovery is, unfortunately, an active effort for Agent Christopher’s ragtag band of time-traveling operatives. It doesn’t mean resting but planning. It doesn’t mean a time off from emotions, but focusing the emotions on another mission.

Wyatt and Lucy from the future don’t stick around long. They leave with the Old Lifeboat, for reasons they “can’t explain,” and the New Lifeboat remains in Christopher’s hands. Time has become a fluid thing of future and past and present all knotted together.

Now they can leap ahead too.

So they take a couple of days to recover from the shock of Rufus’s death, planning their next attack against Emma and Rittenhouse.

Then Lucy asks him the question he’s known is coming.

“I want you to teach me to fight,” she says.

Flynn has never thought, not even for a moment, to give any answer but “Yes.”

***

Lucy has broken ribs. She can’t go on their first mission with the New Lifeboat, but she doesn’t need to. They’re doing reconnaissance in the future. A historian’s of little use there.

“Come back safe,” Lucy says to Flynn. “You owe me lessons.”

“Yes,” he says.

***

Lucy knows they’ve come back when vibration pulses through the bunker, but she’s barely pulled on a sweater before Flynn is slamming through her bedroom door. He’s tousled, dirty, and wild-eyed.

When his gaze falls on her, his adrenaline gives way to fear. He all but collapses.

“Are you okay?” Lucy asks, catching him by the upper arms, propping the towering man up enough to see his face under the fall of filthy hair over his forehead.

He shakes his head. He grips her waist. He feels her, as if whatever he saw in the future made him think she’d have dissolved into a wisp of a dream. Her rib doesn’t ache anymore. She appreciates the need communicated in the press of Flynn’s fingertips.

“Are you okay?” she asks again, her hands wandering up to cup his cheeks.

Their eyes meet in an electric moment. A man who has returned from the future, and a woman whose heart has always lived in the past.

“Yes,” he says.

***

Flynn begins training Lucy in self-defense that very night.

Again, recovery is an active thing. He winces when he moves the wrong way but manages to laugh at Lucy’s attempt to punch him. It’s a relief to see the smirk tugging the corner of his mouth upward.

Lucy already knows what Flynn will conclude from their fight before it begins, and she doesn’t need to time travel into the future to see it. She’s about as threatening as an angry baby sparrow. She’s relied too long on men to protect her.

He goes easy on her, but she still takes a few hard falls—more her doing than his. She walks away unbruised yet with a sore pride.

“You never even tried to hit me,” Lucy said. “I won’t learn if you take it that easy on me.”

Flynn’s smolder says it all. He doesn’t dignify her complaint with an answer.

He makes a plan for her: an exercise routine of weighted exercises and calisthenics, similar to what he did training for the army. Flynn wakes her each morning with a coffee, then takes her into the bunker’s dining room, pushes the chairs aside, and makes her work.

They talk a lot, but not about the mission. Not about why Flynn returned looking so frantic. They talk about Flynn’s time in the military, and Lucy’s time in the Girl Scouts (basically the same thing). They talk about her sister and his wife. They talk about history.

After a few weeks of muscle-burning exercise, Flynn invites Lucy to fight him again. She’s not much better. Lucy ends up locked with her back against his chest, her arms pinned to her side, his chin digging into the top of her head.

“Let me try again,” Lucy demands when he lets her go.

He shakes his head. They just need more time. More work. More practice. But later.

“No, I want to try right now,” she says. “I don’t know if Emma will give me until ‘later.’ And I will never let her get me like that again.”

So they fight again.

Flynn slaps her hands aside easily. But she lands one punch in his gut, and she’s rewarded by the proudest laugh and an all-engulfing hug from Flynn. It’s like being hugged by a bear.

They share a beer after that. When the bottles are cracked open, when Lucy’s feeling the buzz, she has to ask.

“Was I dead in the future you visited?” Lucy asks.

Flynn swallows hard. He presses the bottle to his forehead, shutting his eyes against its cool.

He says, “Yes.”

***

The alarm blares. The Mothership has jumped.

Jiya’s an excellent pilot—arguably better than Rufus, though the wildfire of her anger makes working with her like cuddling a porcupine—and she brings them safely to an old West town.

It’s a trap, which shouldn’t surprise anyone. Emma has activated a dozen Rittenhouse sleepers. They formed a gang, armed with nooses and guns, and waited in the canyon.

If not for the narrow canyon, Lucy would have died that day. Only the narrowing of the passage, limiting Rittenhouse’s access, kept all twelve sleepers from attacking simultaneously.

Between Wyatt and Flynn, they dispatch the sleepers. Only one slips through to Lucy. She cries out, “Flynn!”

It takes him thirty endless seconds to reach her. Enough time that the sleeper draws his gun and points it at her chest.

Lucy grabs his wrist. Shoves his arm up. When the pistol discharges, it’s straight into the air, and she’s uninsured. It’s a maneuver requiring little strength but a lot of reflexes, and Lucy’s shocked for a good hour after they escape.

“Are you okay?” Lucy asks, dabbing at Flynn’s bleeding knuckles with her handkerchief.

He turns his hand. He laces his fingers with hers.

“Yes,” he says.

***

The next morning—back in the bunker, after a night of rest—Flynn wakes Lucy with a cup of coffee.

She can’t believe it. She doesn’t get one morning off from training.

In truth, she’s glad.

“The fight in the canyon was terrifying and exhilarating,” Lucy says. “When I grabbed the agent’s arm, I almost felt like I could be myself—you know, myself from the future. Tough. A fighter. Strong.” She lifts her fists for a fight against Flynn. “I never want to be weak again.”

He moves in close, but not to strike. He catches her wrists.

Flynn tells Lucy that she’s never been weak.

He asks if he can kiss her.

Lucy can’t speak at that point, but she can nod. Flynn kisses her. He tastes like coffee spiked with vodka, and his lips move over hers as expertly as his fists move when he fights.

Somehow they’re against the counter. He’s lifting her, supporting her weight.

She’s the one who says, “Please, Flynn.”

There’s no self-defense lesson to this, but they clutch at each other with equal desperation. Her legs are tight around his waist. She’s digging her fingernails into his hair, and it must hurt, but the only sound he makes is a desperate groan.

Flynn is hard between them. She aligns the two of them, and he makes short work of their clothes, and he is so hard inside of her that it aches.

Lucy doesn’t last very long.

When they’re done, they rest against each other for a few silent minutes, breathing each other’s air and feeling the sweat evaporate from their exposed skin.

Flynn kisses her fingertips. “Will you be mine, Lucy?” he asks, his lips moving against the palm of her hand.

She’s lost in the endless hazel depths of his eyes, but she says, “Yes.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for the fun prompt! There’s more Garcy fic in my bio :)


End file.
